Sheep's Clothing
by Xanoka
Summary: Feliks' garden has a regular visitor and it isn't a robin. When a naked stranger starts appearing monthly on his front lawn, Feliks decides it's time to take action. Beyond ogling. Meanwhile, Toris has a new town, strange physical symptoms, a bad sleepwalking habit and a pervy new acquaintance to cope with. It would also be great if he could just keep track of his clothes...
1. 6 O'clock

"Ha! I told you. He's there again. I totally knew it."

Feliks peered through the window, being careful to allow the curtain to obscure his face, then glanced triumphantly over his shoulder at his friend.

Erzsébet crawled over the bed to the window and shouldered him out of the way good naturedly so she could see.

"Ah," she paused. "So you were telling the truth."

Feliks huffed indignantly and rolled his eyes. "Of course I was. Why would I lie?"

She nudged him, half playful, half apologetic. "Well, it just seemed a little unlikely. It's a bit… strange."

Feliks snorted. "It's weirdest-ass thing I've seen since that time Feliciano and Gilbert got wasted together, remember? Not that I mind. I mean, that guy out there is fine. But still, this is like, the eighth time, or whatever."

Erzsébet raised a sceptical eye brow and he shrugged. "All right, more like fourth or fifth. But I swear. It happens every month, like clockwork. I look out the window and this guy's butt-naked on my lawn."

Erzsébet turned to look again. It was not a hardship. Whoever it was must have been tall, though he was currently prostrate. She couldn't see his face, since he was lying face down, but his hair was light brown and shoulder length, brushing a well-muscled back that sloped down to a firm bottom and long, muscled legs. The guy was clearly in shape, probably sporty. Unless he suffered some horrible facial disfigurement, he was presumably a very good looking man.

"And you don't know him?"

"Please, Erzi. I would remember that ass."

Acknowledging the truth of this, she frowned when a thought struck her.

"Why didn't you say anything before now? I mean, there is a strange, naked man appearing on your lawn regularly for months. He could be stalking you. He could be crazy. Why haven't you called the police? You could probably get a restraining order, if you wanted to."

Feliks shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't know. I didn't want to get the police involved. I mean, he's probably a good guy. He doesn't, you know, _do_ anything. Just wakes up, looks embarrassed and leaves. It's actually kind of cute."

Erzsébet scrutinised him suspiciously, making him flush. "Feliks," she said quietly. "Don't tell me you have a crush on some random nudist."

"What? No! I just… I guess I feel bad for him. He's probably been on a bender, or sleeping walking or whatever. He always looks super confused, you know."

She sniffed. "I can't believe no one else has reported it."

"Well, he usually wakes up pretty early and goes off before anyone else on the street sees him, I guess."

Wait.

" _Early_? What are you doing getting up early? You _never_ get up early."

He wouldn't meet her eye and Erzsébet sighed wearily. "Forget what I said before. If anyone's a stalker, it's you. Setting your alarm to spy on some poor man! I never would have believed it!"

"Hey, what happened to 'crazy, stalker nudist'? Geez! You're my best friend,Erzi. I asked you over for, like, _advice_." He fidgeted, then finally met her eye. "What do you think I should do?"

Well. Rare was the occasion Feliks spoke so quietly, or so uncertainly. Clearly, he was genuinely concerned.

Erzsébet relented, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she continued to stare at the naked man. It struck her that the dew on the grass looked slightly frosty.

"To be honest, I'm surprised he hasn't died of hypothermia. He is alive, isn't he? It looks _freezing_ out there."

"Well, that's what I thought the first time I saw him," Feliks agreed. "I swear, the guy's like a polar bear. He just sleeps, then gets up and goes."

"If he is asleep," Erzsébet commented shrewdly. "He could be in a coma. Or dead."

Feliks stood up hastily, almost overbalancing as he did so. He righted himself, then grinned at her a little sheepishly.

"I guess I should go check on him then."

This, Erzsébet realised abruptly, was the real reason Feliks had invited her over to stay the night. She knew one of his little schemes when she saw one. He had clearly been nerving himself to approach his lawn visitor for weeks, and wanted her moral support before he took the plunge. Plus, probably, a witness to call the police in case the guy actually was dangerous or violent.

With this is mind, she followed him as he traipsed down the stairs and pulled on a coat and outdoor shoes, taking the time to arm herself with the heaviest iron saucepan she could find in the kitchen, while readying her mobile in her other hand. She was nothing if not prepared.

Leaning against the front door, she watched events unfold.


	2. 7 O'clock

Toris woke up with dew-soaked grass in his nose and a beetle marching across his shoulder. He was _freezing._ He was also aching all over.

Had he been running? Had he been drinking? He honestly couldn't remember, and the effort of thinking about it was making his head hurt.

Right. No thinking.

Perhaps moving? He was stiff as well as cold and aching, and so, after a feeble effort, gave up with a huff of disgust.

Instead he tried opening his eyes.

It was light, he saw, and very quiet. Birds were singing , so he supposed it must be morning, but he couldn't hear any cars or voices. More importantly, no one seemed to be around. If he could just force himself to move, he might be able to get out of here before anyone saw him.

Someone cleared their throat and Toris froze.

"Don't mind me, naked dude – I'm totally fine with admiring the view."

 _Shit_. _Shit shit shit._

He made a more concerted effort to get up and succeeded in lifting his torso a little off the ground so he could look around.

His stomach sank.

He was in a very familiar lawn, yards away from a very familiar house.

 _Shit_.

There was a person standing in the doorway, watching him. She had a phone in her hand. Was she calling the police?

 _Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God._

He'd been here before. He's woken up here before. All those times, coming round blearily and staggering away home, he thought he'd gotten away with it, scot-free.

But apparently he had been noticed.

A pair of feet and shins moved into his line of sight, radiating pique at being ignored.

"Dude, who the hell are you? You're on my lawn."

Right. Right right right. Time for some damage control.

"I'm Toris."

Right. That wasn't what he'd meant to say.

Fortunately, the pair of shins chuckled, then leaned towards him confidingly as their owner crouched down. Craning his neck awkwardly, Toris could make out a pair of bright green eyes, crinkled with mirth, framed by a bob of blonde hair.

"OK. I'm Feliks."

"Hello."

The person called Feliks snorted, then burst into peals of laughter.

Behind him, the woman in the doorway sighed and tutted and called out something in another language. The effect was immediate.

The man – Feliks – straightened up, then shrugged himself out of his coat and dumped it on Toris' back.

"Here, man. It's freaking cold and you seriously need to, like, preserve some modesty." He snorted at his own wit.

It was a long coat, so it covered everything down to his thighs. Toris immediately felt a little calmer. He had always hated feeling exposed.

"Thank you."

Pushing himself into a sitting position, he carefully pulled the coat around himself, wriggling his arms into the sleeves without letting it slip.

He could feel amused eyes on him and pretended to ignore them. He was in no way embarrassed. He could brazen this out. Especially now he had a coat. It would all be fine.

Unfortunately, a traitorous flush on the back of his neck betrayed him. _Damn_.

"Dude – Toris – you know I've seen you butt naked in front of my house at least six times. Stable door, man."

He'd been seen before? Repeatedly?

"You've been _spying_ on me?" The words, ridiculous as they were, were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Feliks laughed. "My lawn. Every month. Birthday suit." He raised an eyebrow saucily, eyes dancing.

Time to leave.

Toris rose to his feet with all the dignity he could muster, preparing to sweep away.

At least, he meant to.

In reality, he staggered as stiff muscles protested, and he would have face-planted without a hand steadying his elbow.

"Geez, man, careful. That's a _nice_ coat. No grass stains, OK?"

"Thank you." He tried to pull away, but Feliks held on.

"Seriously, dude. Are you OK? Want to come inside? You're pretty cold."

Toris glanced up sharply and was surprised to see a serious expression, without a trace of laughter or mockery. He hesitated, unconsciously biting his lip.

His stiff, aching muscles begged for warmth and he could practically feel the cosy embrace of the hallway from here. Maybe there'd be food. His stomach growled. Now he was getting over the embarrassment, he felt _famished._

A cold wind nipped his exposed legs and he pulled the coat tighter, giving himself a mental shake. If nothing else, this Feliks might agree to lend him some clothes. Then perhaps he could call a cab? But that was out, he remembered, given his lack of money. He would walk home then.

The woman watching them from the house seemed to lose patience and shouted, loud enough to wake the neighbours: "Would you two stop flirting and just come inside! It's _freezing_!"

Oh. God.

"You know, I really think I need to go."

Toris tugged his arm free firmly and Feliks let go. He cast a glowering look over his shoulder at his friend who only stuck her tongue out in response.

"Well, that's cool, but are you sure? Don't worry about Erzi, by the way. She's just crazy."

He ignored the enraged shout behind him.

"Yes, I'm sure, thank you."

Toris brushed past, but stopped at a tug on the sleeve of the coat. He looked up to see a mischievous light kindling in Feliks' eyes.

"Seriously, dude. You've totally committed public indecency. Are you really going to steal my coat too?"

Toris looked at Feliks and knew he thought he had won. He was grinning, expecting him to relent, to let himself be dragged inside or offered charity.

(And why was he so keen to invite him in anyway? For all he knew these people could be organ farmers, or human traffickers.)

Something angry and hardened by years of capitulating clenched within him. This guy thought he would just give in?

Well.

Challenge accepted.

He looked him dead in the eye, coolly enough for that smile to falter.

"Fine."

He shrugged, shedding the coat like skin, leaving it hanging in its owner's hand.

It was only a moment, but he would treasure it forever.

That look of pure astonishment, jaw dropping, eyes almost popping, a strange chocking noise coming from the doorway.

His triumph over the blonde idiot was sweet.

Then he turned and forced complaining muscles into a jog.

It was a good job he was so fit.

It looked like he was running home naked, after all.


	3. 8 O'clock

**[Sorry for the delay! I had some Christmas stories to write and other chapters to update/finish! Thank you very much to Pastaaddict, Rebecca Frost and Guest for your reviews, and to everyone who favourited and followed! I'm introducing Switzerland in this chapter. I hope I get him right! Thanks!]**

* * *

Basch peered triumphantly through his binoculars parting the window blinds, tracking his prey.

"Big brother? What are you doing?"

Erika was sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes and looking bewildered to find her older brother crouched on her window seat in his pyjamas and dressing gown.

"I told you, Erika!" he called over his shoulder, without turning around. "I told you he'd be back! The flasher's back, and I'm going to nab him."

She blinked, processing.

"But big brother, it's first thing in the morning. You're not on duty yet!"

Basch finally turned to face her, temporarily abandoning his scrutiny. It was Erika who'd first seen the naked pervert. Her scream had woken him up, and ever since then he had been determined to bring the bastard to justice. For the last few months he'd been on stakeout, establishing the miscreant's typical movements. Now he was ready to make his move.

"A good police officer is always on duty, Erika!"

He twisted round to check on his target, missing his sister's rolled eyes. And cursed as he realised the scoundrel was passing the Vargas' house, a mere two hundred metres from theirs.

Leaping up, Basch dashed out of the room, dressing gown flapping behind him like a cloak, bounding down the stair two at a time, pausing only to snatch up his badge and the handcuffs he'd left in readiness for this moment on the sideboard by the front door.

There followed a frantic minute and a half of unlocking and unbolting its various locks, bolts and door chains (one could never be too careful!) before Basch finally broke through his own security and tumbled onto the garden path.

The streaker had already passed his house and had turned into the footpath dividing the Zwingli property and Bonnefoy's. Usually, the naked man jumped the fence to cut through his garden to the forest behind it.

Not today.

Using all the stealth at his disposal, Basch followed. Fortunately, he was in peak physical condition and his adversary seemed to be tiring, so within moments he'd caught up and dived, rugby tackling the criminal to the ground.

The naked man yelped in a mixture of surprise and pain, instantly muffled as Basch shifted his weight to grab his arms, forcing them behind his back and his victim's head into the wet grass.

He put up a hell of a fight, elbows jabbing and legs flailing, almost giving his captor a black eye, but eventually Basch had his arms pinned and quarry subdued.

"Aha!" he shouted, unable to resist revelling in the victory. "Please do not resist! You are under arrest for trespassing and public indecency!"

He fumbled for a moment in his dressing gown's pocket, before producing the handcuffs and attaching them to his prisoner's wrists, while reciting the rights distractedly.

Victory was sweet!

Eventually, he struggled to his feet, hauling the spluttering delinquent with him.

"You're a _police_ officer?" The streaker was twisting his neck to look at him, doubtfully taking in his red and white striped pyjamas and fluffy tartan dressing down (gifts from Erika).

"I _did_ just arrest you." The nudist continued to look sceptical, prompting Basch to roll his eyes and dig his badge out of his other pocket. "I'm in plain clothes at the moment. Obviously."

The bastard snorted and Basch felt his lips thin.

"Come on, you. I'm taking you to the station."

Ignoring the look of panic, he steered his captive back down the path, disregarding Bonnefoy's shouted inquiry from his bedroom window. In fact, the arrest had been noisier than he'd intended. Quite a few curtains were twitching on both sides of the street, and a few people had even emerged to watch the spectacle from their front gardens.

Erika was one of them.

Basch glared, outraged. If his ridiculous neighbours wanted to be peeping Toms, that was their look out. But he would not allow his own little sister to sully her eyes!

Accordingly, he turned his back to her as they approached the street, shielding the flasher from her view (and giving Bonnefoy a much appreciated eyeful.)

"Erika, get inside. This man is naked!"

She did as she was told, only to reappear a moment later carrying a long overcoat. She held it out to her brother with a small smile.

"For the prisoner."

He took it and flung it one-handed over the nudist, inadvertently pressing their bodies together in an awkward embrace. The reprobate protested feebly.

"Oh, man up! You can put it on properly once you're in the car." Basch spat.

Pathetic.

Fortunately, Erika already had his car keys and was unlocking the door to the back seat for him.

Sparing her a tight smile, he shoved the naked man into the car, deftly unlocking one of the handcuffs with the ease of much practice and reattaching it to the assist handle.

"Put that coat on. Then seatbelt."

He watched the miscreant wriggle himself into it onehandedly, apparently with great relief, then gaze forlornly at his other arm, clearly hoping to be uncuffed. Basch snorted.

"What? Do you think I'm stupid? Just do up your seatbelt!"

He slammed the door with satisfying force and locked it.

Erika was still hovering at the edge of the pavement. The sight of her in her slippers and dressing gown reminded him of one all important fact.

He flushed and stormed up the garden path, his sister trailing along behind him.

Five minutes later he stomped out again, fully dressed in his uniform and clutching a brioche.

"Bonnefoy! What the hell!"

Bonnefoy was standing by the car, peering curiously through the window. The Disgrace to Society was slumping in his seat as low as he possibly could. He had cocooned himself in the coat and his eyes were screwed shut, apparently desperately trying to get to his Happy Place.

Bonnefoy had the nerve to smile.

"I was just curious, mon cher. This is most – "

"I'm not your anything, bastard," he interrupted, shoving past him. "Now, stop harassing my prisoner and get the hell out of here."

"I was not – !"

But Basch didn't hear him. He'd already climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine and the radio along with it, drowning out whatever his absurd neighbour was saying.

He was going to put in another request for tinted windows. It should have been done ages ago, but that idiot Antonio was too bloody lazy to deal with the paperwork. He gripped the wheel tighter.

One day. One day he would be Police Chief, and he wouldn't have to put up with anymore of this bullshit.

He could not wait to get to the station.

* * *

When they arrived, Basch was less than delighted to see Gilbert leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand. His least favourite colleague raised a pale eyebrow at him as he got out of the car.

"It's early. What brings you here, little Baz?"

Ignoring the crack about his height, like the bigger person he was, Basch only glowered at him.

"I made an arrest," he informed the cretin stiffly. "For trespassing and public indecency."

Gilbert left the wall to peer into the backseat. A slow grin spread across his face.

"Is he – ? Is that guy _naked_?" He laughed throatily, but Basch ignored him. He was good at ignoring Gilbert. He did it every day.

Instead, he focused on extracting his captive from the back seat and pushing him towards the station, ignoring senseless comments about role play and foreplay and other nonsense.

A few people turned to stare as he frogmarched his captive to the detainment area. He ignored them too. At work, he was nothing if not dispassionate.

As such, he didn't notice the interest of the young PC on duty at the desk as he filled in the paper work, before dragging the prisoner off to an empty cell.

She waited until he was out of sight, then pulled the telephone towards herself and dialled frantically. She drummed her fingers on the table as it rang.

"What the hell! It's early. Who is this?"

Erzi sat up straighter in her chair, brimming with excitement.

"Feliks! It's me! Yes, I'm at work. Listen! You would not _believe_ who Bas has just brought in!"


End file.
